Today I went to Nashville to visit my sister and my little niece. We had a nice "girls day out." My niece was so cute in her pink outfit and little pink mary jane walkers. My sister had her hair done up. I was wearing this cute top I just purchased a few weeks ago and new polka dot flip flops. The sun was out. It was a beautiful day. We had a nice brunch at a local French restaurant. My niece was an angel through the whole thing--both moms got to eat. My sister and I both went to the spa for pedicures. I asked for gold toe nail polish. My niece behaved beautifully at the spa. She and I bonded over her pacifier and the latest Marie Claire magazine. It was the perfect day out.
Girls Day Out or Ladies Night Out or both are important on many levels. One, it gets you out of the house. Two, you get dressed up and pimp out for your girlfriends so that you all can congratulate one another on owning something clean and pretty. Three, you get to eat a meal uninhibited by snack crackers, spilled juice, dropped pacifiers, overturned water glasses, and mounds of extra napkins. Four, you give your husband a taste of what you do all the time (unless he's a stay at home dad in which case, he needs a night out). Most importantly, you go out for a little while to be reminded why you come home.
When I came home this evening at 7, I got mauled by my two boys when I walked in the living room. You would think I had been gone for months and months instead of a few hours. My baby's face just lit up. His smile was so big and his arms went straight up for me. My four year old leaped off the couch and attached himself to my neck and immediately began to tell me all about the day. Then he raced to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, pulled out the takeout bag and brought it to me. "Here mom, we brought you home some lunch. Aren't you hungry? Come eat it and tell me about my day. Could you get me some milk too? I'm so thirsty." I was overjoyed by this homecoming. It took us a few minutes to detangle my hair and my necklace from the baby's grip. He cried all the way to the tub because I wasn't carrying him there. I read a book to my preschooler while I ate my dinner and then he let me put him to bed with minimal refusal. My husband just smiled and said they were perfect angels all day--not a single tear. It really was the perfect ending to a perfectly lovely day.
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